Unforgivable Truths
by Sunny-f16
Summary: Sometimes knowing the truth wont set you free. Sometimes knowing the truth is a curse bent on destroying you. AU
1. Solitary

1.

"_For it so happens, that I could never convince myself that the dead are dead."_

Henderson the Rain King

_-Sual Bellow_

* * *

When the world was spinning, things were, as always, expected to move accordingly: seasons changed from spring to summer and fall to winter; day became night and night became morning and all things lost were always found.

When the world was spinning, one would know that wherever their feet happened to settle, they were going to stay there, never straying or slipping. They were always sure that this, this one place, was where they were meant to be. One knew that, when things got too far out of hand, there was always that one person to turn to for help, whether that be a friend or neighbor or the relatives two blocks down. When the world spun, one always knew they could, at least, walk up the porch every evening and summon the strength to turn the knob, open the door and feel safe at home. They would never collapse out of fear, forget who they were or wonder, after everything, if they were doing the right thing.

No, everyone knew, as Remus Lupin did, that when the world was spinning, however dark and malicious it seemed to have become, everything was going to be okay.

There were times, though, that the fighting and hiding and spying and the doubting, believing that the world had turned against him made him feel like a wall on the verge of breaking, crumbling to the floor in a cloud of unsettling dust. There had been times when Remus had watched his friends laugh and joke, forgetting altogether that the world around them had spun itself into dark days. Then, suddenly, he had watched the faces of James and Sirius and Peter and Lily turn grave and hard as they remembered the war. Remus had wished, more than anything, that if the world could just stop its hectic twirling and whirling for just a little while, things could be better.

How many times had he stared out his window, watching the days pass, watching the world change as it spun hoping that everything would just stop? Just stop for one solitary moment, a single fraction of time where this war couldn't touch them? How many times had he wished for a day that they could all believe that the world would spin for an entirely different reason?

Because it was war that, sadly, kept the world spinning these days. It had become the center, the gravitational pull that everything revolved around, spiraling, as it were, into utter chaos.

It drove a hole threw his chest to witness the hardship his friends had gone through already in this insane world. They shouldn't have to know what it was like to dread waking up every morning knowing that it may, quite possibly, be their last or suspect that anyone, stranger or not, was a spy planning to kill them or their family. Grocery shopping had never felt so threatening as it did now.

But that was why they fought and hid and spied: to help this whirling world become peaceful again, to live in a world without fear. The doubting and the belief that one of his closest friends, one he had once called his brother, had turned against them all was an entirely different matter.

Nevertheless, it was all a part of war. The hoping and doubting, the struggle and all the unanswered questions helped this world, the one that they fought so hard to keep, spin.

He couldn't imagine a world much worst than this.

"The tragic and sudden death of Lily and James Potter is a grave reminder that, we too, are mortal."

But then the world did stop spinning entirely.

And Remus's mind reeled at the reality.

A sudden gust of bitter November wind tugged on the hems of the gathered mourners as Dumbledore spoke at the head of crowd, their black robes flying around their limbs, trying, it seemed, to escape the funeral no one wanted to admit was real.

Two weeks. It wasn't that long ago, but it felt like forever that the Daily Prophet beamed the news in large black font for all of the wizarding world to see that the Dark Lord had been defeated. As the wizarding world celebrated the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Remus had grown numb as he read the details.

It had to be some trick, he had thought. A dream, a prank, _anything_, but it couldn't be real. Lily and James had just been here, living just down the street with their son. They had been alive, breathing, laughing, smiling .

'_They can't be dead', _his head had kept repeating. '_They can't be dead.'_

"Let us make no mistake and let us harbor no illusions about death. Death itself is no illusion; it is a terrible reality." Dumbledore went on at the front of the gathering, his beard flying over his shoulder as the persistent wind tried to wipe the scene in the cemetery from existence. "And the reality of death contains no hidden goodness, no hidden consolation."

Remus shuddered at the rear of the crowd, his tattered dark robes doing nothing to fight the fall chill and he could not help but stare at the two mahogany coffins, resting side by side to Dumbledore's right. Lily and James, they were so close, a mere five yards from where he stood, but yet, they were so far away and Remus could not make sense of the situation.

A month ago, everything was perfect. Lily and James were alive, playing in their living room with Harry as their friends watched on, all unassuming of what darkness was about to pounce, save for one. He knew what he was doing, and he knew what darkness stalked them.

'_We were all betrayed.'_

"Let us not be fools or cowards, who would seek to appease this terrible enemy by pretending it has any good gifts or good intentions for us. Death has nothing good to give us, and intends only our destruction. Death is not our friend. It is in fact, our last and greatest enemy."

Peter's funeral had been three days before. As there really was no body to bury, Remus had been spared watching a coffin being put into the ground then. Sirius Black had taken the liberty of making sure that Peter Pettigrew didn't even exist the day he killed him, but Lily and James were there, in the closed coffins, laying in satin beds as if they slept, prepared to rest underground, hidden forever.

It had been a quiet affair, Peter's funeral, though many more Ministry Officials were there than at the Potter's. They presented the Order of Merlin to Peter's mother, who, with trembling fingers, dropped them to the ground in her grief.

Remus remembered how Mrs. Pettigrew had been rushed by Aurors standing near her as she began to sob. They had picked up Peter's trophy, handed it back to his mother and tried to sooth her by telling her how ''great of a hero'' her son was and what ''a terrible monster Sirius Black was'' for doing this to her. Their soothing words had only made Mrs. Pettigrew wail even louder.

The bawling sound of Mrs. Pettigrew still echoed in his head. He had wanted so much to stand beside her and cry along with her but he had just stood there, in the back of the crowd and watched, still too much in shock to do anything but stare.

Just like he was doing now.

He had never seen his headmaster wear black and even now Dumbledore's choice of wardrobe was a plain, dark navy blue robe that was currently caught up in a gust of wind. Remus was suddenly reminded, once, in his school days, after complimenting Dumbledore's blue robes with purple stars, James and jokingly told his friends that if he ever died before Dumbledore, he wouldn't be surprised if the old man wore mustard yellow to his funeral. Sirius had laughed.

Lily and James, Peter and Sirius. Four of his best friends he thought he'd share the end of the Wizarding War with were all fallen victims who perished fighting against evil. Tomorrow he'd mourn Sirius. The dark haired, blue-eyed man that was always quick with wit and a smile and sometimes quicker with a hex or hurtful jibe, but was always there as a loyal friend was just as gone as the others. Now he had been replaced by a man who turned dark, who finally gave in to his family's ways and gave everything up, and for what? A dark cell in Azkaban? A shred of acceptance from the family who disowned him? For whatever reason, Black was not Sirius. Black was a traitor and Sirius was his friend who died long before everyone else. It was Black, not Sirius, that was the reason he was standing here now, in a cemetery, wearing his darkest robes, and watching as the Potter's were about to be put to rest.

"This is not a time to grieve the deaths of Lily and James Potter," Dumbledore started again. "But it is our time to celebrate their lives. To think back and remember the witch and wizard who lost their lives fighting for the future. This is not the moment for us to shed our tears, but to be thankful that we were all given the chance to know such wonderful people like Lily and James."

Dumbledore proceeded by recounting all the times he shared with Lily or James, commenting on their talents in school; Lily's astounding skills in charms, James' inspiring work in transfiguration, Lily's ability to hand out numerous detentions to one particular student, and James' unique way in causing trouble and completing said detentions with a flourish.

Many of the funeral attendee's laughed and added in their own memories, celebrating, as Dumbledore had suggested, the life of Lily and James Potter.

Remus tuned out most of the conversations the others began having about the two, now deceased, but still remarkable people he never thought he'd have to live without. He had found, very painfully, that he could not bear to think about all the happy times he had shared with James and Lily. And when Dumbledore kept trying to catch his eye, coaxing him to participate in the remembrance of his friends, Remus made a point to not look up at his old headmaster, and instead trained his gaze to stay focused on the dark coffins in front of him.

When a child began to cry from somewhere within the crowd, Remus discovered that the youngest Potter wasn't apart of the head count today and an odd weight filled his stomach. Their own son couldn't even attend his own parent's funeral. He was hidden, more than likely, because even with the Dark Lord gone, his followers were still at large looking for revenge and allowing young Harry Potter to be found and killed at his parent's funeral would be a fool's mistake. It was a hard fact to face, that it was for his own protection but still, even if he'd never remember it, Harry would have liked to have known that he had been there to say good-bye the best way any baby knew how.

A somber song began to rise over the wind, trying in vain to match the feeling in everyone's heart and then begin to lift it into slightly higher spirits as the two coffins magically rose into the air and began to slowly lower themselves into the ground. The funeral music could not hide the sounds of the coffins finding ground below them and settling into place where they would remain forever. Remus flinched inwardly, feeling as if, somewhere deep inside himself, a small piece of his soul had been shut away from the world, trapped down there in the satin beds with his friends.

The realization that he was finally alone struck him deep in his chest and the lump in his throat began to pulse, causing the first tear he had shed in the last three weeks to finally escape his eye.

All the happy memories, all the times they had laughed and joked and had banished the thoughts of war from each other's minds had never happened. They were apart of another life, a lingering shell of what had happened and a fading hope of what could have been.

_Poof!_

_ Flash!_

Remus blinked back sudden white spots from his vision after the surprising flash of light and looked around. The gaping holes in the earth that the coffins had been placed in had been filled and had the dying brown grass magically re-grown over the fresh graves, the attending crowd had already began dispersing, leaving the cemetery behind them and as he watched, the photographer that had quite unexpectedly taken his picture just moments before was walking toward the new and abandoned gravestones and began taking snapshots of them too.

"Oi! You! What do you think _you're_ doing?"

Arabella Figg, who must have seen what had happened, stormed over to the photographer and practically began shooing him off site with her handbag and yelling profanities at the dodging young man.

Perhaps it was the oddity that his picture had just been taken, or the bewilderment of how such an invasive person entered the cemetery with the Aurors placed at every entrance, anti-Apperation charms placed over the majority of the little town. But he couldn't help but stare impassively as the photographer was escorted by a very distressed Mrs. Figg out of the cemetery and when the elderly lady began walking back towards him, Remus did nothing but blink sadly at her.

"Terribly sorry about that, Remus," Mrs. Figg said, still holding her handbag defensively in her hand. "Not entirely sure how he got in here but…" She trailed off as she turned back around to face the way she came in, shaking her head. "Should have taken his camera, exposed his film or destroyed the thing before he left… damn! Of course, _now_ I think about it!" She huffed in agitation, began mumbling under her breath about respect, and privacy and Remus vaguely wished he had the heart to feel the same.

"Blundering buffoon!" Mrs. Figg went on as she stormed off best she could with her high heels on knobby cemetery ground. Remus couldn't help but smile slightly at her now as he followed her out. "Snapping pictures at a funeral! Who does he think he is? Liked to have boxed his ears in, I would!"

"James always liked his picture taken," Remus put in beside her. He watched his feet as he and Mrs. Figg walked toward the gate. "I don't think he'd mind even now. Besides, he was probably just a novice playing with a new hobby, Arabella. I wouldn't worry about it too much."

Mrs. Figg hummed in agitation. "Still a right prick to bring it here, even if it was to make a few sickles with the Prophet," she grumbled. She sighed and paused as she reached the gate leading out to the road of Godric's Hallow, then gave the cemetery one last look before she turned her attention to Remus. "Best of luck to you, Remus." She swallowed. "Even after these recent events, things are bound to be looking up with that monster gone."

Mrs. Figg nodded reassuringly as if to convince herself it was true. "Well, then," she sniffed, hugging her handbag to her chest. She smiled up at Remus. "I'll be seeing you, Remus!"

Remus offered her a smile. "Goodbye, Arabella," he said as walked away and threw her right arm above her head to flag down the Night Bus. Even without a wand, the obnoxious purple bus still hit the curb, hailing her call.

Then he was alone. Even Dumbledore had gone, leaving Remus to stare one last time at the headstone in the distance that shared Lily and James' names. Everyone else had left, either at home or perhaps even at a bar by now.

He was leaving them, he felt. Two of his friends would never walk out of the cemetery or walk into the living room of their house again and he was leaving them there, underground, to lie buried forever. It was so wrong, but nothing had ever felt so real and so terrifying at the same time.

Remus took a deep breath and cast his gaze skyward, searching for something, but not knowing what. Closing his eyes and whispering a goodbye, he held his breath, thought of home and Remus Apparated out of sight.

* * *

_Author's Note: A slow start, but starting with Lily and James' funeral seemed right for a beginning. Fear not! I promise it'll start picking up!_

_Chapter 2 excerpt:_

The dust began swarming again next to Walburga Black as the magic formed another person. Starting at the feet and working itself up to form a body of a man, the dust turned itself into another member of his family. Regulus nearly dropped his wand and the box he was holding when he saw his brother, standing before him, dressed in the robes of the Death Eaters, just as dark and unforgiving as his face looked.

He was sneering.

_"How could you?" _ Sirius growled at him and Regulus flinched. _"You had everything! A loving family! A place by the Dark Lord's side! We could have been great together, Regulus! You and me! With Lord Voldemort!"_


	2. The Shack

2.

The Shack

"_Mothers are all slightly insane."_

J.D. Salinger

_Catcher in the Rye_

* * *

Nine Years Later.

* * *

The old shack had been reduced to nothing but a few standing pieces of wall held together of what little remained of the roof. There was but a handful of old clay shingles left protecting the roof from rain and even they seemed to have little more than a few stubborn nails tacking them in place. The windows were nothing more than broken frames and the door was no longer where it should be but a few good dozen paces west of the house, blown off it's hinges, perhaps, in a violent gust of wind.

Grass had overgrown the old building, taking it over in wild growths flooding the yard with unruly weeds. Even the inside of the shack had been overrun with the vegetation. Blades of grass found the numerous cracks in the floor and some even finding the strength to push up through the floorboards, replacing the old wooden floor with its earthy counterpart.

The idea that anyone had lived in this three room old shack, even years ago, was hard to fathom. Even when it was in better shape, he had no idea how anyone could live comfortably in a house that consisted of a kitchen, a living area and a small bedroom for everyone who lived there. No traces of plumbing, even electricity, something the muggles liked to use to light their home, was no where to be seen.

Running a hand over the stone sink where broken pieces of plates and glasses could be found inside coated in clumps of dirt, Regulus Black looked around the broken shack. It smelled of rat feces and bad wood, and eyeing a rather large collection of dead weeds and twigs in the corner of the kitchen, the man was sure a nest of mice found some form of comfort inside.

A breeze picked up outside, disturbing the inside of the shack when the wind found all the broken places in the walls. The thin and ragged curtain above the sink ruffled slightly and something long and thin nailed to the wall near the door to the bedroom jerked stiffly when the wind caught it.

He heard a hiss somewhere inside the shack.

Pulling his wand from his belt, Regulus' blue eyes watched the edges of the room, vigilantly. If this was the right place to look, as he was sure it was, something was bound to try and stop him from taking what he came here for.

Another hiss. This time it was louder, drawn out. "_You're getting too close," _it seemed to tell him.

Regulus stepped through the doorway to the bedroom finding a pile of dirty blankets piled up under the window and a pair of old boots, rotting and eaten off of against the wall to his right. Another piece of that long, thin material was nailed up near the window, this time, though, he managed to see the small splatter of dried blood on the wall near the nail as if the leathery ribbon had once been alive.

Stepping closer he saw where the eyes of the snake should have been and the long fangs in its open mouth still glistened threateningly. The Gaunts were Parseltounges, he remembered, feeling uneasy at the sight, but it seemed even with the ability to talk to the snakes, that did not make the serpents friends of the family.

The invisible Mark on his arm began to tingle when he found himself in the living area but he ignored it, knowing he was getting closer because of it. It was darker in this room, as a thick cotton blanket covered the window, keeping all light from sneaking in.

"Come on, Riddle," he said quietly into the room, feeling as he did so that speaking his name aloud would reawaken a cursed spirit. "Where'd you hide it?"

A breeze blew into the house again, this time a little stronger as it ripped the thick and knotted blanket tacked above the window off the wall and it fell to the floor in a dirty heap, the collected dust and dirt in the faded cotton expelling from its folds. He coughed as he inhaled some of the dust that collected in the air suddenly and he just barely made out the sound of hissing following him.

He froze. The hissing stopped but he could hear slithering beneath the floor.

He turned around the room, one arm covering his nose and mouth with his robes to keep the dust from finding his lungs again and held his left arm up, wielding his wand in front on him, ready for an attack.

Regulus took another tentative step forward and the floor beneath him creaked in protest.

Another hiss. Much louder this time and it was warning him for the last time.

He pointed his wand at the floor, suddenly catching a glimmer in the cracks. There was a faint murmur in the room.

_'Black…' _

It whispered in his ear, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and his left forearm tingled painfully now, but he ignored it and voiced an incantation.

There was a loud crack in the air, like lightning had suddenly ripped through the floorboards and the wood beneath his feet snapped, splintering around the nails, sending more dirt and dust into the air in small clouds. He heard the house moan in objection as its foundation weakened.

_ 'Black…' _It whispered in warning.

He flicked his wand up, the sudden jerk sending the wood flying up in a mini explosion; the old wood hitting the roof and falling back down in noisy crashes. The room now was clouded in a fog of unnaturally black dust and he could still hear the falling of wood around him, feeling it all land in his hair and settle in the folds of his robes. He coughed.

_'Black,'_ It was quieter this time, soothing, and he could see shapes forming in the dust. _'this will gain you nothing…'_

Sunlight flooded the room in beams of light as it streamed in around the black smog, lighter pieces of dust twinkled in and out of the sunbeams like stars as they drifted to the floor. And as everything settled something gold shimmered somewhere within the room, hidden halfway underground.

Regulus crouched down and examined the dark dirt under the house and finding the source of the gold glimmer, wiped the dirt from the surface and uncovered a gold box. It was elegantly designed with coiled serpents perturbing from its surface, ready, it seemed, to strike anyone who tried to open the box.

He pulled it up out of its hole, random pieces of caked on dirt dropping from the box and back onto the cold ground. Regulus moved a finger over the box, feeling for the crease to open it, and finding it, he made to lift the lid.

The wind picked up again, much harsher than the times before as it began tugging at the ends of his robes. It seemed to gather solely into the living area with him and the box, lifting the dust and dirt once again into the air. Regulus drew back is hand and tucked the box beneath his arm. This was no ordinary wind, he knew, but magic, an enchantment to scare him off and he could see as he quickly straitened himself up, the dust forming itself into a human shape by the force of the wind.

When he looked up he saw his mother staring back at him from within the black dust.

"No!" He growled at the storm, feeling stray pieces of dirt dig at his eyes as the wind began raging more. He turned his face away to avoid the stinging but he could not help staring at his deceased mother.

She was wearing a royally embroidered dress, one he remembered best on her and her long, graying black hair was piled high atop her head. Her eyes, he remembered them to be gray before she had died four years ago, were pitch black now, and they glared at him like he was a clod of dirt stuck between her diamonds and her golds.

_'Regulus…'_ she said to him sternly. _'is this what you want, Regulus? To break your mother's heart?'_

He clenched his jaw shut, wanting to retort back, but knowing the spell would feed of anything he said to try and play with his emotions.

The dust that made her body was blowing in and out of her form, never really breaking her shape but billowing black clouds out behind her, all swirling madly around her, and Regulus was mesmerized by the wicked scene._ 'I had… such high hopes for you and now you're throwing it all away, for what?'_

The magical wind that helped keep his mother's form began tugging forcefully at his hair and robes, trying to suck him in, and as it got more powerful, his mother got angrier. Regulus had a hard time trying to simply back away from his mother, his legs feeling weak as the current pulled them forward, as she just seemed to be sucking him towards her. He was forced to hold his wand and the box in the same hand as he tried to grab the edge of the window for support.

He closed his eyes, finally unable to watch any longer. But as hard as he squeezed his eyes shut the more he wished he could turn his ears off as well.

_'Muggles and Half-breeds! Mudbloods and blood traitors, Regulus!' _his mother screamed, towering over him. _'How dare you turn against your family for _them_!'_

The air around him was howling now as his mother became livid and it took all of Regulus' strength to just hold onto the windowsill, as his mother got closer. He turned his head and looked outside, where everything seemed peaceful, just how it had been when he walked into the shack. A great contrast to what was going on inside the old house. If he could just leave the property of the house, he believed, the charms would break.

But that was easier said then done, and as he thought this, the storm picked up even more.

The dust began swarming again next to Walburga Black as the magic formed another person. Starting at the feet and working itself up to form a body of a man, the dust turned itself into another member of his family. Regulus nearly dropped his wand and the box he was holding when he saw his brother, standing before him, dressed in the robes of the Death Eaters, just as dark and unforgiving as his face looked. He was sneering.

Regulus watched his brother take a step closer to him with sad eyes. He never expected Sirius to turn to the Dark Lord, never thought his brother would become an angry and mad wizard like he did. He should have told Sirius, should have told him what he was doing long ago, maybe then, Sirius wouldn't have turned.

_'How could you?' _ Sirius growled at him and Regulus flinched. _'You had everything! A loving family! A place by the Dark Lord's side! We could have been great together, Regulus! You and me! With Lord Voldemort!'_

Regulus could feel the box slipping from under his arm as the wind picked up even more. Layers of wood on the walls were peeling off and began spinning in and out of the forms of Walburga and Sirius Black as they both glared at him. He could just faintly hear the tinkling of glass from the kitchen as the broken pieces in the sink were unsettled by the magic. The boards that made up the walls were shaking, clattering together and rocking the house.

_'We would have been invincible, Regulus.' _Sirius continued. _'The infamous Black brothers!'_

Sirius began laughing and Walburga turned to look at her eldest son and she beamed with pride.

The piece of wall he was clinging to was splintering from his weight and the pull of the wind inside the house. It was going to buckle any moment now, letting his mother and brother suck him and the wall into their swirling mess of darkness.

Regulus shuffled to grab the side of the window with one hand but he slipped and ended up catching the sill again instead.

_'But you gave it all up!'_

_ 'Why can't you be more like you brother?' _ His mother bellowed, almost overlapping her eldest son's words. _'He found his true calling and you have strayed away from it!" _

_'Give up, Regulus,'_ Sirius howled between bouts of laughter. He could hear whistling around him as the currents of the wind blew between the cracks in the wall, but despite that, Regulus could still make out his mother's and Sirius' words as if they spoke them to him in a quite room.

'_Give up like you did your Master!'_

Their words finally struck him and Regulus clinched his jaw and glared at the dust forms in front of him. His long dark hair was thrashing in front of his face, whipping him in the eyes and the dirt continued to pelt his skin, stinging every bit of exposed flesh it could find.

He opened his mouth to say something only to have the wind steal his words. He coughed once and regained his breath.

He swallowed hard and yelled at his mother and brother.

"I have –"

Deep breath.

"No-"

He felt a stinging in the back of his throat and he resisted the urge to cough.

"-Master!"

He snarled at the magical forms before him, feeling a wave of rage at the very sight of them. Regulus gripped the window sill tighter.

Sirius continued to laugh. His mother screeched.

He caught his footing under himself again and leapt for the side frame on the window and heaved himself up onto the ledge. He cast one last look at the two members of his family inside the house. Sirius was still laughing, a mad expression twisting his face and his mother was enraged, seething at the sight of him rebelling and running away from her. She bellowed something he couldn't catch from the wind blowing around him and Walburga Black rushed forward, intent on grabbing her youngest son and hauling him back inside.

With wide eyes, Regulus lifted his legs over the sill, nearly dropping the gold box as he did and he let himself drop, tumbling over the edge and the short distance onto the ground on the other side. His mother's form flew out the window, and finding the boundary of the curse, broke a part, dispersing in the air outside with a howl.

Regulus landed on his back and he gasped, feeling the tight panic in his chest as the air was knocked from his lungs. He rolled over onto his side, feeling air rushing back into him and he coughed, literally seeing the strange black dust falling from his mouth.

Everything grew quiet.

If he had thought, when he started his hunts for the Dark Lord's horcruxes, that this was going to be easy, he was definitely deluding himself, he thought. Though, this had been a piece of cake since he escaped from the island with the locket with the help of Kreacher, Voldemort's wards and tricks were always surprising him and he hated to think of what other special charms his old master had waiting for him with his other horcruxes.

He couldn't wait to find out, he thought sarcastically.

Regulus sat up, the unkempt grass towering over his head from his seat beneath the window and he looked around. There was no wind outside the Shack and the air was clear. It had been like falling into a whole new world after fighting the dark tornado like figures of his kin. And after thinking of his beloved family Regulus was happy to see there were no signs of his mother or brother anywhere.

The gold box had landed upside down in the grass next to him with his wand sitting, perfectly intact, a few inches away. Regulus picked the box up and eyed it suspiciously. The Dark Lord had hid it there, in the old shack, protecting whatever was inside from being found. Voldemort must have placed a lot of faith in the idea no one would discover the truth about his horcruxes or he'd have placed a better concealing charm around his old family home. The locket had been harder to get, and required two to uncover it from the island, the box however, with the family ring inside, though harder to track down, was much easier to steal.

Regulus ran a dirty hand through his equally dirty hair, feeling the dirt and dust that collected in the windstorm falling loosely around his face. He made a disgusted face and spat when he felt tiny grains of soil grinding in his teeth and he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, finding that it too was entirely coated with filth. He moaned in distaste. He'd have to wait until he was home, the box carefully hidden until he could even think about being clean again.

Regulus stood up and picked up his wand, looking back inside the house to find a large hole in the middle of the floor, a combined vandalism from his spell work and Voldemort's wards. If anyone were to come knowing what was hidden inside would find that they were not the first to have come here looking for it. There was no hiding the fact that someone had been here and took what they wanted. At the very least, with the locket, he managed to find a replica and replaced it as well as the Diary he found at Malfoy Manor eight years previously. No one would realize the real things were missing until they took one long hard look at his decoys, except this one. The ring, if one were to look just slightly, was obviously taken. Hopefully, no one came looking anytime soon.

He sighed and looked at the gold box, tilting it back and looking underneath it curiously. "Oh, the things I do to destroy you," he said to it with a scowl. There was another faint hiss, but was unbothered by it, used to the way the horcruxes tried talking back to him.

He smirked at it.

Regulus could see his dirty reflection in its surface and it was probably dirtier than he was after being stuck in the ground for years. He wondered vaguely what the box looked like after it had been all polished up and then wondered more, what the Gaunt Family ring inside looked like.

He moved his hand as if to open it but hesitated. No, he wouldn't open it until he knew how to destroy them. He'd hate to for the Curse of Lord Voldemort to unleash Walburga and Sirius Black on him again.

Sighing softly, Regulus looked up toward the road into Great Hangleton six miles away, feeling safer finding a way home there than this close to Voldemort's mother's home. He started forward, finding an old rucksack to keep the box safe in, and headed down the road, thinking he finally found his third piece to his collection of seven. Whatever the other four turned out being, he expected to find out soon.

Things were about to turn nasty, he knew, and he hoped to be well prepared for the Dark Lord's return, and his destruction soon after.

* * *

_Author's Note:__ See? I didn't lie! I've thrown some curses and Horcruxes in with the mix! You can't say that wasn't the tiniest bit of fun, can you? Well, I had fun writing it, so please, _please_! review! I'd love some feed back! Whether it be good or bad, I'll value your opinion._

_Chapter 3 excerpt:_

Lucius swallowed hard before whispering nervously: "I-I think…I think I found him, Regulus."

"Who?"

"The Dark Lord, of course!" he yelled, and realizing his outburst continued in a much quieter voice. "I found the Dark Lord. In _Albania_. I _found_ _him_, _Regulus_!"


	3. Things that Haunt Us

3.

Things that Haunt Us

"_Look, (Grown-ups usually skip this part) I'm not about to tell you this book has a tragic ending, I already said in the very first line how it was my favorite in all the world, But there's a lot of bad stuff coming."_

William Goldman

_The Princess Bride_

* * *

The photo won first in the second ever photo contest held by the _Quibbler_ seven months later and if no one took the _Quibbler_ seriously enough to appreciate the picture's worth then, they certainly did after it won a place on the Ministry's wall of fame for ''most touching after war'' photo two years after that. Nine years after the funeral and the teary-eyed and defeated looking picture of Remus Lupin was the most well known photograph of all of England, somehow reminding the world that though the Wizarding War was over, there were still scars left behind.

Everyone knew Remus Lupin's face. Everyone in the Wizarding world knew him as a friend of the Potter's and as the broken man who bravely tried to hold in his tears as the Potters were laid to rest. The Muggles knew him simply by the photograph's title "The Man without a Smile".

It pulled at the heartstrings of both wizards and Muggles alike, and despite the Muggles being unaware of where and why the picture was taken the non-magical people of Britain still fawned over the depressed looking man, blowing the picture up and hanging it in galleries for more to see, showing it in places like the Photographers' Gallery in town, helping the man who took the picture become legendary. Wizards and witches kept a black and white clipping of it when it was featured in the Daily Prophet on the fifth year anniversary of the Dark Lord's downfall, adding them to scrapbooks and sending them overseas to relatives in the States. Some had even paid hundreds of galleons for a professional print just to add to their collection.

Remus could not understand how or why anyone would love his picture. It was sad and heartbreaking and painful just for him to look at, why these people got a kick out of seeing him in tears was beyond him. Perhaps, he couldn't help but think, they all just loved to see a man find his breaking point, loved to feel sorry for someone they didn't even know because it makes them all feel just a little bit better about themselves because it's not them in the picture.

And the worst part? They didn't even know what he was, let alone his name. The man without a smile: friend of Lily and James Potter, yes, but Remus John Lupin: werewolf? They had no idea.

If they ever found out, he wondered darkly, how would they feel then? Doubtless, they'd ever feel sorry for him again.

Melvin Spengler, the photographer that shared Remus' face to the majority of the world, was ever so kind and shared a generous percentage of his earnings with the werewolf, since it was, after all, Remus' face that made him so well known. Spengler added a nice five hundred galleons to Remus' small vault in Gringotts every time his picture was used, bought or published. With art enthusiast buying the picture of him left and right, it didn't take long for his vault at Gringotts to fill beyond it's small capacity and the goblins had sent him a letter five years ago informing him that they were forced to move his gold to a bigger vault. This was before he even realized that the photographer at the funeral was making headlines with the shot he took at the funeral. And after starting out at vault twenty-five, one of the smallest and lowest of security vaults Gringotts offered, Remus now found himself withdrawing money from vault three-twenty; a much bigger vault found deeper within Gringott's tunnels.

Remus made sure to keep track of the amount of money in his vault that was Spengler's and what wasn't, debating often if he should just buy another vault to separate the earnings or to just send all the money back to the photographer. He swore to himself long ago that he'd never use the money he ''earned'' from that stupid, stupid picture.

He had a very strong feeling that this picture, this one picture he hated more than anything else, more than Black and Voldemort and dark Halloween nights, was going to follow him the rest of his life and beyond. It was just another curse to add to his lycanthropy. And when he found an unexpected Ministry owl perched on his kitchen window late that morning requesting an interview from the witches of Witch Weekly about him winning their next months issue ''Most Enchanting Eyes" award, Remus knew he had been right in thinking that

And why the witch's of Witch Weekly decided to attach the picture of him in their letter was beyond him. Like he didn't know what it looked like after years of it haunting him. He tossed the letter in the bin.

After shooing the owl from his window, knowing the poor thing was expecting a reply letter to take back, Remus was sure to close his window and shut his curtains,. He hoped any other Ministry owl would take a hint and not drop by with any more letters.

"Not bloody likely," Remus murmured under his breath as he poured himself another cup of tea.

"Merr-eow?"

Remus looked down at his feet to find a gray cat rubbing against his leg, her fluffy gray tail curling around his ankle in a feline embrace. He chuckled at her antics as he sat his pot of tea back down. "'Lo, Maggie," he said to her as he walked to his fridge. "Find any squirrels for breakfast?"

Maggie looked up, her long white whiskers standing out against her gray face. She blinked her yellow-green eyes slowly as she meowed an answer.

"No?" Remus asked as she watched him expectedly and he pulled out the last of his milk from his nearly empty fridge and poured it in a plastic bowl. The milk just barely filled the bottom of the bowl when the contents began dripping slowly from the carton. "Well, I suppose…"

Remus placed the bowl of milk on the tiled floor and Maggie hardly let out a polite purr of approval before she began lapping the liquid up with her pink tongue. Remus smiled to himself.

The long-haired cat found herself on his front porch two years previous. She had been a kitten then, a tiny ball of light gray fur that curled easily in both his hands cupped together and she had caught him a squirrel as a peace offering, meowing in the middle of the night at his door.

Remus had never really owned an animal before; they usually never really liked him to get close enough. Even at Hogwarts, he dreaded going up to the owlry where the owls flocked to the furthest side of the tower or swooped down at him, trying to scare him away. Even in his magical creatures class, his assignments would hiss, growl, bite and claw him, all sensing the danger that lived inside him. Not that the creatures hating Remus ever made him feel like he needed to stay away. A little dejected perhaps, but he was still fascinated by them all. In theory, magical creatures was his best, and favorite, subject.

Maggie, though, was the first to ever accept him. Remus even doubted that Maggie feared anything. The first time he transformed with her staying at the house, he expected to find her as far from his property as possible. But instead, the next morning, Remus found her curled up under his chin. Maggie had become his morning after companion and amazingly, Remus' transformations had become a little less troublesome in the days that followed. He might ache the same, but he found he cared less about the pain since Maggie brought him a squirrel tail the first time they met.

Picking up his mug of tea, Remus leaned back against his counter, watching his unusual cat drink the last of his milk and shaking his head as her tail flicked in delight.

Maggie meowed suddenly and straightened up, her large yellow-green eyes darting toward the front room. Her tail puffed slightly before she ran upstairs.

_So much for being the fearless feline,_ Remus thought casually as he watched the end of her fluffy tail vanishing up the stairs.

There was a knock on the door and Remus furrowed his eyebrows. Maggie meowed upstairs in warning and he found himself setting his mug down, grabbing his wand from his pocket and headed for the door.

When he opened the door, preparing to unleash a good hex at whoever stood outside, Remus found a blonde witch, clad in a bright yellow coat and holding a dark blue shoulder bag, staring at him on the other side. He looked at her, surprised.

"Mr. Lupin!" she exclaimed excitedly, extending a hand for Remus to shake. "I'm Godiva Gumboil of _Witch Weekly_. Might I say it is such a _pleasure_ to finally meet you!"

Remus shook her hand, still bemused as to why she was there. He was about to ask her, but she shuffled past him and into his house, her blonde head whipping back and forth as she looked around his living area.

"Well… isn't this nice?" Godiva Gumboil commented, turning to face him with a half-forced smile. "Do you live here alone?"

Remus closed the door, hearing the latch click into place behind him. He cast a quick glance up the stairs to see Maggie peeking her head around the corner. She was staring at the witch with her ears flat against her head.

"Of course you do, my apologies, Mr. Lupin," Godiva said with a wave of her hand. She turned to his fireplace and began studying the pictures on his mantle.

Remus was taken aback. "Sorry?" he stammered.

"Hmm?" Godiva turned back around questioningly and then, after realizing what he had said, her blue eyes gave him a sad, understanding look. "Oh, I only meant that after your friends died that of course you'd be living alone. Such a tragic thing to happen…" She pointed at one of the bigger pictures in the middle. "And these are them, then? Oh, yes, I recognize the Potters, Lily and James. And there's Peter Pettigrew! Poor thing! And… hmm, who's this?"

Godiva touched one manicured hand to the glass of the picture over a man with long dark hair and blue eyes. He was laughing quietly in the picture.

Remus walked over to the fireplace to stand beside Godiva and turned the picture down so the contents in the frame were hidden. "I don't mean to be rude, Miss Gumboil—"

"Godiva, if you please, Remus, or 'Diver', if you wish. All my friends call me that," Godiva corrected. She smiled, her white teeth obviously magically brightened to the limit. "As in I'm always 'diving' into a story!" She laughed at her little joke.

'_Very suitable,_ Remus thought dryly without smiling. _'Just as you 'dived' right into my house.'_

"Miss Gumboil, I don't mean to be rude," he stated again levelly. "But is there a reason for you being here?"

"Oh yes!" Godiva rummaged through her bag, undisturbed by Remus' behavior. She pulled out a lengthy piece of parchment and a red quill. "I'm here for your interview, Mr. Lupin! I assume you got our letter about you winning our 'Most Enchanting Eyes' award, yes?"

"Yes, but I-"

"Then we can start with a few questions and answers," Godiva said as she quickly took a seat in his recliner. "So, your picture entitled, 'The Man Without a Smile'… it was taken at the Potters' funeral. Everyone can obviously see the sadness in your eyes here. Would you say you're happy now that a few years have gone by?"

Remus watched the witch as she wrote across her parchment taking notes with a shocked expression. He shook his head at the absurdity of the situation just as Godiva looked up and the reporter took that as his answer.

"Now, everyone can understand, Remus," she continued. "You lost everyone you cared for the most that year, all in the span of twenty-four hours, but surely, things have begun to lighten up! You are famous now, after all! And as we at _Witch Weekly_ understand, Melvin Spengler, the photographer that made you famous, has shared a charitable amount of his earning with you. He's completely turned your life around, Remus! I've come to hear that before the funeral, you were not very well off financially, is that correct?"

Remus crossed his arms and stared at the witch. "Yes, but –"

"And now, with your picture earning you money, would you say that you can now find yourself more economically well-off? I bet your friends are smiling down at you now, Remus, seeing that you've come so far."

Godiva was scribbling on her parchment again and Remus opened his mouth to say something, but she broke in once again.

"However, Remus, it is certainly worrisome, as I'm sure others would agree with me, that you still have a picture of the murderer, Sirius Black, framed in your house," she said, pointing with her red quill at the picture Remus had turned down on his mantel.

Remus felt his body go rigid at the mention of his old friend's name.

"How do you think the Potters would feel knowing that you still consider Black as a friend after he intentionally betrayed them? What would Peter Pettigrew say to the fact that you are keeping pictures of him and his murderer so close together?"

Godiva Gumboil watched him intently, this time actually expecting him to answer in his own words. Remus just blinked in surprise, feeling as if a flood of old feelings were suddenly crashing down on him again. It had taken him nine years just to feel the slightest bit better about his friends being gone. Nine years to get to the point where the hole in his chest stopped growing every time he looked at those old photographs. It had taken him this long to finally feel as if the world was spinning again. Now this reporter just walked into his home and made it feel as if it had all frozen over again.

Remus looked at the pictures on his mantel. The one he had turned down had all of them, James with Lily by his side and Peter and Sirius standing by, all laughing while Remus took the picture. Then there were four other pictures still standing proudly above his fireplace, all with one of his old friends stuck behind one frame or another: one with Lily and James with their son Harry; another with James, Sirius, Peter and himself standing arm in arm in front of Hogwarts; the third with him and James watching as Sirius gave his godson his first broomstick; and the last featured Sirius and Peter playing chess at the Potter's.

The irony of the last photo still shook Remus, and he did have to wonder absently why he had that one up there.

"I… they're just photographs…" Remus muttered while he studied the pictures sadly.

"Most people keep photos of the people they love, Remus," Godiva Gumboil said slowly. "Would you say you still love Sirius Black the way you loved James Potter or Peter Pettigrew when they were alive?"

"Of course not!" Remus found himself almost snarling.

"Then you are aware, Remus, that there are spells that can replace and remove people from certain photos?"

"Yes, I'm aware!"

"Then, might I ask why you haven't –"

"Why should I?" Remus asked, finally interrupting the reporter. "Just because I can take him out of those photos doesn't exactly wipe him from existence, will it? He was still there. He was still our friend."

"But he betrayed you," Godiva Gumboil said. "Resulting in the death of three of your friends."

Remus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know…"

"So he wasn't ever really your friend was he?" she asked, scribbling away on her parchment again.

The scratching of the tip on the fibers was frustrating him and he looked over at the reporter in irritation.

"Now, it seems we've gotten a little side tracked haven't we?" Godiva said sweetly. "Let's get back to your picture. Tell me, Remus, do you remember what you were thinking in that precise moment as the picture was taken?"

Remus didn't say anything. He did in fact remember, but he wasn't going to tell Godiva Gumboil that. He remembered coming to the realization that he was completely and utterly alone. James, Lily, Peter and Sirius being the only ones he knew that accepted him for what he was, he was at a loss at how to face the world without them. At that moment, he came to the realization that he didn't really know _how_ to face the world without the support of his friends.

At that moment, before the flash of the camera went off, capturing his face that had been plastered around Europe, Remus came to the realization that he was never going to talk to James again. Or write to Peter, or ever see Sirius. He wouldn't get to see _any_ of his friends again except through photographs.

He had accepted that. It had taken him nearly nine years to do it, but he finally accepted that.

And this reporter was undoing everything.

Remus closed his eyes, blocking out the pictures and the reporter. But he could still hear her scratching away with her quill, trying, as he was sure, to describe everything he was doing and everything in his house the best way she could. He opened his eyes exactly the same moment Godiva "Diver" Gumboil looked up from her writing. He could see her open her mouth, forming her next question, but he was determined not to let her interrupt him again.

"Miss Gumboil, I really don't want to be rude or anything," Remus started calmly. "But I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Godiva smiled at him pleasantly. "Oh but, Remus…"

"_Now_."

Godiva's face fell at the sound of his voice and as he stared evenly at her, she finally began packing her dark blue bag with her quill and parchment. When she stood, Remus stepped aside to allow her to show herself to the door.

Once she had left, the door softly snapping behind her, Remus collapsed on his couch and buried his face in his hands. He heard the soft pitter-patter of soft white paws descending the stairs and felt the gentle pressure of Maggie leaping into his lap. She pushed herself up against his chest and tickled the underside of his chin with her tail as she purred.

"You were a lot of help back there, weren't you?" Remus asked her sarcastically as he stroked her back softly.

Maggie looked up at him and meowed once before rubbing her face against his. Remus smiled dejectedly as he swallowed a lump in his throat.

"Thanks."

* * *

Lucius was acting strange.

Not that Regulus, personally ever really cared about the behavior of his cousin-in-law, but all the twitching and the nervous arbitrary glances the blonde wizard kept giving him over his Thursday dinner with the Malfoy's was certainly unnerving him. Even the man's son, Draco, was eyeing his father suspiciously.

Regulus tried to act unaware of Lucius' odd behavior in the company of his cousin and her young son by complimenting the food, or the wine, he even tried to strike up an odd conversation with Narcissa about the dinning room chandelier only to receive curt replies in kind. He sighed; coming to the conclusion that his persistent need of conversation was making the fact that the room, usually un-lacking of polite banter between family, was definitely in want of some sort of topic of discussion even more pronounced. But as it were, the unspoken theme of tonight's dinner was the odd behavior from the host himself.

Deciding, for the time being, he best keep quite, Regulus purposely took a sip of wine, a drink he never really cared for, just so he had something to do in the awkward silence. Unfortunately, sipping wine didn't take up too much time, and Regulus found himself uncomfortably listening to scarce sounds of silver on china as the dinner participants unconsciously ate from their plates, once again.

Narcissa eyed the untouched glass of wine near her husband's plate and cleared her throat politely. "Lucius, dear," She said, obviously finding, as the other two at the table did, that Lucius not touching his favorite wine during dinner was unsettling. "Perhaps you would care for some more wine, dear?"

"Hmm?" Lucius curtly looked up from his absentminded staring at his chicken and briefly acknowledged his wife. "What? No. No thank you, Narcissa, I'm fine."

Narcissa cast Regulus a troubled look when her husband began staring at his plate again, beginning to pick beneath his fingernails fretfully with one hand. Regulus sighed and shook his head slightly at the odd behavior.

Regulus pushed his plate forward, signaling he was done with dinner just as Narcissa slouched back in her chair. "Well, that was a … a lovely dinner," He said with a smile as a house-elf came to collect his plate. "Perhaps we can take a short break before dessert, 'Cissa? I think Lucius and I have a few things to discuss."

Narcissa gave Regulus a gracious smile. "Yes, a break sounds wonderful," She looked at her son as she stood. "Draco? Why don't you and I go wash up while your father and Regulus talk about work?"

When Regulus was left alone with Lucius in the dinning room he leaned over the table purposefully feeling the closer he was to Lucius the better chance the wizard would hear him in his mind wonderings. "What are you doing?" He asked and Lucius flinched inwardly in the tone of Regulus' voice. "Your family is currently in the wash room worrying about your sanity, Lucius."

It was then that Lucius realized that his wife and child had left the table and his gray eyes wondered the room anxiously. "I-I apologize… I'm not myself tonight it seems," he said and he looked as if he was going to pick up his glass of wine but then suddenly decided against it.

"Well, obviously," Regulus said, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair. Lucius watched him and the darker haired wizard quirked an eyebrow as if insisting on an explanation.

Lucius swallowed hard before whispering nervously: "I-I think…I think I found him, Regulus."

"Who?"

"The Dark Lord, of course!" he yelled, and realizing his outburst continued in a much quieter voice. "I found the Dark Lord. In _Albania_. I _found_ _him_, _Regulus_!"

Regulus felt his face pale. "When were you in Albania?" he asked still trying to make sense of the situation.

"I wasn't but… I heard things," Lucius said, his eyes casting the fireplace on the other side of the room nervous glances. "Suspicious things. Strange possessing. Murders. The Department of Magical Creatures have reported an unusual amount of unicorn slaughters…"

"And you think this all leads to the Dark Lord?"

"It has to!" Lucius finally picked up his wine. "You yourself said a year ago that he was still alive, didn't you?" He asked and Regulus angrily looked away. "Probably without a corporal body, and finding any sort of means to survive…"

Regulus nodded curtly as Lucius spoke. "Yes. Yes I did say that, but that doesn't mean the activity in Albania is because of him…"

"Who else? Who else but the Dark Lord?"

Regulus rested his elbows on the table, gripping his fists together until his knuckles turned white. This was happening much sooner than he expected. He was thinking he still had another four years until… No, Lucius was just being paranoid. Seeing things that weren't even there. But it did all sound skeptical…

"When did you hear all this?" he asked.

Lucius clenched his jaw at the question and when Regulus looked up at him, saw an evident vain throbbing at his temple. "Lucius…? How long?"

"A month ago."

"A _month_…?" Regulus stared at his cousin like he was crazy. "And you're just telling me about it _now_?"

" I_ know_." Lucius combed a shaking hand through his blonde hair, disturbing the finely combed tresses until they stood up at awkward angles. "I know, but I wasn't _sure_. I thought, _surely, _I was just seeing things."

Now, Regulus took a sip of wine, not because of the awkward lull in conversation this time, but because he truly, desperately, wanted to. The bitter liquid burned his throat as he swallowed. "What do you purpose we do then?" he asked hoarsely.

Lucius shook his head, unknowingly. "You said His return is inevitable?"

Regulus nodded. "Yes, I believe if He doesn't return now, He will at some point later on."

"And He'll be furious then, especially if He finds out we knew."

They both looked at each other, knowing what would happen to them both should the Dark Lord return and find they did nothing to help bring him back and feared the out come.

"Then… I guess we should…" Regulus trailed off and took another drink of wine while Lucius agreed.

"You said you found a way for him to come back?" the blonde wizard asked. "A ritual? What do we need?"

Regulus sat his nearly empty glass of wine back on the table and cleared his throat, feeling the burn from the alcohol again. He didn't answer right away, not really wanting to come to the reality of the situation. _Better this happen sooner, than later… _he thought. _Get it done and over with and stop worrying it. _"Flesh, blood and bone…" he said, knowing it sounded vague.

Lucius stared at him. "Of what?"

Regulus sighed. "Bone of the father," he started, hating himself for knowing. "Blood of the enemy and flesh… from a servant."

Neither one said anything after that, uncertain what to say next. Behind him, the fire crackled, the wood in the hearth snapping under the heat of the flames. Regulus hardly felt its warmth at his back.

"Then I propose this," Lucius suddenly said, sounding very official. "We can't expect to accomplish this alone. We'll need to find the grave of the Dark Lord's father..."

Regulus agreed though he already knew where to look. It'd hardly been a week since he was just there in Little Hangleton, the town of Voldemort's parents.

"Find an adversary against the Dark Lord and…" Lucius swallowed. "Find a willing servant."

"Simple as that." Regulus added weakly. "So you gather we should rally up the remaining Death Eaters?"

Lucius was staring into the fire again and he nodded, his gray eyes clouded with fright. "No." He shut his eyes and sighed. "I mean, yes, we need to gather the Death Eaters, but not Avery and the others. They haven't put in as much… effort."

Regulus looked at him quizzically. If Lucius didn't want to involve the others, then what exactly did he plan on doing? Start recruiting new Death Eaters?

"The Lestrange's have always been some of the Dark Lord's favorite followers." Lucius said with an edge of sourness in his voice.

Regulus eyed Lucius warily. "Yes, but… they're in Azkaban…"

"Then we should get them _out_…"

The fire crackled again and Regulus could see the faint glow of it reflecting in Lucius' eyes as he started at him. Surely, Lucius had gone insane.

"You want to break them out of Azkaban?" he asked and Lucius smiled slightly. "Are you completely mental, Malfoy?"

Lucius shook his head. "Hear me out here, Regulus," he said. "The Lestrange's have always been extremely… _sacrificial_… when it comes to the Dark Lord. They went to Azkaban for him, for Merlin's sake, instead of renounce him. Surely, one of them would be… willing?"

Regulus stared at him, in complete disbelief of what he was hearing. "You have lost it," he said quietly before finishing his wine. "But I guess it's a start." He shook his head again and sat his empty glass back on the table. "Though, I've just agreed we're breaking the Lestrange's out of prison. Perhaps I've gone mad too."

Lucius finished his wine as well and smiled insanely. "Not just the Lestrange's," he corrected and Regulus looked up at him. "Bellatrix is a good witch to have out on our side, but why stop there?"

"You want to break _everyone_ out?"

"At the very least, all those on the same level."

Regulus wracked his brain as he tried to remember all those in the high security cells in Azkaban. There were the Lestrange's of course, his cousin and her husband and her husband's brother. Dolohov, Mulciber, Rookwood, Traver's who's been there since before Voldemort's downfall, and… Regulus froze in his chair and looked at Lucius with wide eyes.

Lucius only smiled back before he called his house elf to bring in dessert, obviously feeling better about himself since when dinner began. "I wonder how your brother's doing?" he asked and at that moment Narcissa and Draco walked back in and took their seats again.

Regulus hardly noticed Malfoy's house elf slide a plate with chocolate cake in front of him, and he hardly noticed himself picking up his fork and taking a bite. All he knew is that he wished he had more wine and he guessed he would probably be picking up something stronger before returning home.

* * *

_Author's Note: I'm sure a nice brother reunion is just what Regulus needs to keep his mind off his Horcrux hunting, right? : )_

_Excerpt for Chapter 4: Monsters in the Dark_

_"Did you find him?" the blonde-haired wizard asked the moment Regulus stepped around the corner. _

_"In Little Whinging," he said as he watched Malfoy eye the paper suspiciously. "I found an obituary of the Potter's in one of the Muggle's old papers. It stated that Lily Evans Potter was survived by her son and her sister, Petunia Evans Dursley."_


	4. Monsters in the Dark

**4. **

Monsters in the Dark

"_A thousand enemies outside the house are better than one within."_

-Arab Proverb

* * *

Regulus could still remember the last time he saw his brother. He had seen his brother in Hogwarts a few times, of course, but only briefly and he always considered the night Sirius left home to be the last memory of his brother. Because after that, neither one of them considered one another as family.

The fire had been crackling in the Black family home, much like it was now despite it having been summer then. His mother had always been cold and insisted the fireplace stay lit year round. Regulus remembered he had been sitting in the plush recliner watching the glowing embers snap as he listened to his parents yelling at their oldest son.

They had found a stash of Muggle money with a large book on automotive repairs under Sirius' bed that morning. Walburga and Orion Black were less than pleased, though Regulus could hardly remember a time his parents were ever happy with his brother. From Regulus' earliest memory with Sirius, their parents were almost always scolding him for something and once Sirius started school his first year, things simply went down hill from there.

Sirius had always hated his parents and with the heated glances he always gave Regulus, Regulus was sure Sirius hated him just as much. Though Regulus never truly felt any lasting hatred for his brother, even when he was younger, he still couldn't help but pity Sirius.

Regulus had always felt sorry for his older brother. Sirius was misguided and believed in silly things like unity between Muggles and wizards. He enjoyed teaching himself about the Muggle world, and Regulus still recalled catching him with a handful of the Muggle notes, trying to learn how to count back the paper money. Sirius would waste time cutting out photographs of Muggle girls and buying Muggle-made watches when he could be working on something more useful in their_ own_ world. Sirius would continue his Muggle adventures over the summer holidays with his friends, only making his parents even more furious with their idiot son.

And now Regulus felt like the idiot. The entire time, Sirius had been right, though Regulus was still trying to get himself comfortable with the idea of Muggleborns and half-breeds. Sirius had always been right. Their parents had been wrong. Voldemort was wrong. Everything he knew growing up was wrong—but Sirius, he always knew. Despite his parents always telling him differently, Sirius never turned his back on his beliefs. He'd rather slam his door and face the fury of his mother and father than think for one solitary second that anything they said was true.

Regulus stared long and hard at the Black family tapestry, remembering the night his mother blasted Sirius off the family tree. He had watched her do it, right after he watched his brother walk out the door with a look of determination on his face that clearly said he was never coming back.

And Sirius never did look back. Not while he rushed past Regulus, sitting in the plush chair in front of the fire, or even as he pulled open the door as his parents screeched at him, ordering him back into the house. But Sirius slammed the door shut behind him and he never turned around, never walked back inside, and never looked back.

Even two years later, Regulus knew Sirius never looked back.

But something changed that. Somewhere down the road, Sirius had turned. He finally broke and changed his ways and betrayed his friends. Maybe his parents somehow got to him and Sirius was tired of fighting? But Sirius had always been defiant, up to the point where he finally packed his bags and stormed out of the house.

Whatever the reason, Regulus was sorry he never believed in Sirius and now he was too late. He could only keep replaying the memory of Sirius walking out, wishing he could have followed knowing he never did.

Then Walburga Black burned Sirius off the family tree, and Regulus could still hear the hiss of the magic burning a hole over his brother's face, the edges curling away and glowing under the heat. Regulus wondered if his mother regretted that now, after Sirius had been sent to Azkaban for killing a handful of Muggles and one of his Muggle-loving friends.

"Master?"

Regulus turned to the door curiously after being interrupted abruptly from his mind wonderings only to find Kreacher bowing to him out in the hall.

"Master Regulus, Master Malfoy has come and awaits Master Regulus' presence downstairs in Master's office," the old house-elf said as he straightened himself up.

Regulus sighed and casting one last glance at Sirius' burnt picture, he nodded.

Kreacher disappeared with a pop just as Regulus walked out into the hall. Lucius was early. His appointment wasn't until three and it was barely half past noon now. Not that Regulus was going to complain, however; he'd rather get this over with as fast as he could and Lucius was definitely making a point to speed things along.

Lucius had already located the grave of Tom Riddle, Senior. Regulus had no idea how, but he assumed Lucius had remembered the name on the diary Voldemort gave him a year before His downfall and Lucius simply looked into it. His plan with Azkaban was already in motion. Lucius had decided the best way in was to convince the new Minister, Cornelius Fudge, that the Wizarding prison was overdue for inspection and insisted to tag along to help with the effort to ''make sure the inmates of Azkaban were secure in their cells and the world was protected from their dark desires to finish He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's evil plans''. From there, Lucius had told Regulus that he planned on sneaking a few spare wands and slipping them between the bars of the high security prisoner's cells. It'd be easy; the only tricky part was getting eleven spare wands past the security at Azkaban's entrance.

Now Lucius was only missing a few more pieces to finish his plan: the Dark Lord himself, whom Malfoy had insisted on searching for on his own, and an enemy of the Dark Lord's in which they planned on using to bring their old master back. There were, of course, plenty of advocates to choose from, but Lucius had decided on finding just one.

"Did you find him?" the blonde-haired wizard asked the moment Regulus stepped around the corner.

Regulus didn't answer, but instead opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a torn piece of newspaper clipping, handing it to the other wizard.

"In Little Whinging," he said as he watched Malfoy eye the paper suspiciously. "I found an obituary of the Potter's in one of the Muggle's old papers. It stated that Lily Evans Potter was survived by her son and her sister, Petunia Evans Dursley."

Lucius stared at him levelly. "_And_?" he asked obviously frustrated.

Regulus had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "_And_," he went on, "Petunia Evans Dursley lives in Little Whinging. I have the address written down if you'd like it."

Malfoy placed the article on Regulus' desk. "How does this get me Potter? I asked you to find Potter. Not his Muggle aunt."

"He's there," Regulus said, sitting behind his desk and putting the obituary clipping away. "Living with his aunt. I've already gone there to check."

Lucius looked surprised. "He's living with Muggles?" he asked

Regulus shrugged.

"I thought for sure Dumbledore would have placed him with a Wizarding family," Lucius continued. "Not with a few… _helpless_ _Muggles_." He spat out the last two words.

"They're not completely unprotected," Regulus explained. "Or I would have brought Potter back with me to be used at your disposal, Lucius. I found a few wards around the property when I tried walking up to their door."

Lucius nodded as he stared at Regulus' desk and simply stood there. Regulus assumed he was planning out a few more details and allowed the older wizard to stand and stare. Regulus stood by in contentment, though he was secretly wishing that Lucius would decide that this was all too risky and end it all.

"The inspection is the sixth of November," Lucius said absently as he continued to stare at the surface of the desk.

Regulus lifted his head a little higher in acknowledgement, finding it a little ironic that the breakout would take place on Sirius' birthday.

"That gives us six days to take care of the smaller details…" Lucius' eyes flickered up to meet Regulus'. "And here I thought your little freelance job would gain you nothing."

Regulus bit his tongue to keep from laughing, but instead quirked his eyebrow at the statement.

A couple of years ago, in his hunt to find the remaining horcruxes, Regulus found himself at Borgin and Burkes asking if Mr. Borgin had ever sold a ring that had an odd connection with the Gaunt family. When Mr. Borgin asked why he was looking for such an unusual artifact, Regulus made up the lie that he was tracking it down for a friend who had lost it. He guessed a bystander had heard his innocent untruth and told a few friends because since then, wizards and witches had began hiring him to help them find their missing things that they thought had been stolen: rings their estranged family members had picked up from their last visit, lucky sport socks, kneepads or mascots rival teams had stolen in the attempt to throw the other team off and many other miscellaneous things people have let go missing. Just recently Regulus had visitors come to him asking if he could find missing people.

It was both a distraction to what he was really trying to do and a helpful tool. Everyone had become so acquainted with Regulus Black showing up in strange places asking for strange things that no one ever asked him any questions. If he needed admittance into the Department of Mysteries, he had a feeling he'd be allowed in and out, no questions asked.

Regulus had, oddly enough, become very good at the unusual job he found himself in, but a lot of it he'd simply been lucky. Others told him he had a gift. Regulus thought it was just common sense.

Perhaps Regulus had developed too much of a liking for finding things, he suddenly realized. He never ever really batted an eyelash at the idea of hunting Potter down. He had just done it and now, after handing Potter's location over, Regulus felt a squirming monster grow in his chest.

"It isn't a freelance job," Regulus stated as he stood, feeling uncomfortable with himself now.

"Isn't it?" Malfoy asked with a slight sneer. "Unless, of course, you're planning on making it a business, Black?"

Regulus scowled. "Fine," he said with a huff and he sneered. "I'm _freelancing_."

Malfoy smirked as Regulus crossed his arms and continued to scowl. "Once the Dark Lord is back, I'm sure your skills will be put to better use than what you've currently been doing, Regulus," he said, offering a bizarre encouragement as he fished in his robes and pulled out a bag of coins. "Doubtless, though, you'd even need a job at all."

Regulus frowned when Lucius pulled five galleons out and neatly stacked them on his desk. The squirming monster growing in chest doubled in size and he shook his head at Lucius. "Keep your money, Lucius," he said, grabbing the coins and handing them back to their previous owner. He did not want to be paid for tracking Harry Potter down to resurrect the Dark Lord. "Friends are free of charge."

Lucius took the money back without question and nodded curtly at Regulus. "Very well," he said, pocketing the sack of coins. "I suppose we'll see each other again on the sixth. Until then, we'll keep in touch."

Regulus nodded in agreement as Lucius walked away, finding his own way out. Once Regulus heard his front door click shut, he let himself sag in his chair, feeling like he had just done the worst possible thing in the world.

* * *

"Give me your Mars Bar."

"Get your own Mars Bar, Dudley."

"Dad! Harry wont share his Halloween candy!"

Harry rolled his eyes when his cousin started wining. All Dudley got for Halloween was chocolates. _And more than he needs, _he thought sourly as he watched his cousin pouring his pillowcase full of sweets onto the floor. The green antennas on Dudley were bouncing atop his head from his alien costume that, by all definitions, were too small for him. But his aunt swore her precious 'Duddikins' wore nothing over the size she got him. Harry could literally see the stitches in the seams giving out when Dudley so much as moved.

It had been an peculiar Halloween simply because Dudley had wanted Harry to participate with him with his yearly raiding of neighborhood houses for candy. He had insisted that Harry dress up with him (though not to be as "scary" as Dudley's costume was to be) and actually wanted Harry to walk up to the houses he thought had the best candy.

Harry hadn't particularly wanted to go trick-or-treating with his cousin, especially in Dudley's old teddy bear sheets pretending to be a ghost. But considering that he was usually left at the house watching other neighborhood kids come up the Dursley's front porch for candy, Harry thought it might be a nice change of events.

Though, now that Harry thought about it, Dudley probably only wanted Harry tagging along for candy stealing purposes only. Dudley had most likely thought that if he had someone else, like Harry who virtually had no way of not "sharing" his candy, he could get double the candy in less the time.

"Harry, share with Dudley," Harry's Uncle Vernon ordered, hardly looking up from the papers he was reading at the table.

Now, as Harry sat with Dudley in the living room, with Dudley having most of the candy between the two of them and Harry being left with small packets of Wine Gums and Lemon Drops, Harry was almost certain that his theory had been correct.

Before Harry could even hand the chocolate bar over, his cousin leaned over and snatched it from under his nose. That had been his last chocolate bar and Harry had been planning on saving it. At the very least, Dudley didn't try and take the Wine Gums he'd managed to get from Mr. Anderson's house. Those, at least, were still good.

Dudley ripped open the wrapping on Harry's chocolate bar and made a face. "Harry already took a bite off it!" he whined.

With a sigh, Harry tossed his Wine Gums at his cousin before he even asked for them and stood, quickly grabbing a handful of Lemon Drops and stuffing them in his pockets. If he had to run around the block with his cousin dressed as a ghost in teddy bear sheets, he was going to get something out of it, at least.

"I'm going to bed," Harry announced, getting no reaction whatsoever from his relatives.

Walking toward his cupboard, Harry saw his Aunt Petunia peeking through the curtains. Her arms were crossed over her chest and Harry noticed the worry lines at the corners of her mouth. Harry couldn't help but mentally roll his eyes at her antics. She was probably worried that one of the neighbor's kids was going to trample her already-dying lawn.

"Night, Aunt Petunia," Harry said as he opened the door to his cupboard.

Petunia merely waved off the comment and continued to stare out the window.

Toppling onto his cot, Harry popped one of his Lemon Drops into his mouth and rolled it around his tongue. He supposed the night hadn't gone too terribly. He did get a few pieces of candy out of it and he did get to walk the neighborhood without Dudley trying to chase him up a tree. Dudley even told Polkiss off for trying to whack Harry with his bucket of candy.

Harry reached over to one of the shelves by his bed and picked up one of Dudley's old motorcycle toys he had lost interest in. He spun one of the wheels. Dudley didn't even like motorcycles; he couldn't even ride his bike. The only reason Dudley had cried to his parents until they bought him the toy was because Harry had been studying it at the store.

"Vernon?"

Harry looked at his door at the sound of his aunt's worried voice and wondered vaguely if she noticed an overturned flowerpot on her step. She had always hated Halloween for that very reason.

Harry lifted the toy motorcycle above his head, imagining that it was flying. He had a dream, just the other night, about a flying motorcycle.

"Vernon," Petunia said again. "Vernon, come here."

Harry listened to the sounds of his uncle getting up from his seat in the living room, grunting with the effort as he did so and he heard the floor creak in protest as he walked by Harry's cupboard. Harry could hear his aunt and uncle's voices murmuring by the staircase, but he couldn't make out anything they were saying. He supposed they were possibly debating amongst each other whether or not they should call the police for vandalism.

Harry weaved the motorcycle above his head, picturing the soft grumble of the engine in his mind. Harry made it take a hard turn in the air before having it touchdown on his shelf again.

"You don't think its one of _them_, do you?" Harry finally heard his aunt say.

"No, no, Petunia," Vernon told her roughly. Harry found himself sitting up from his cot and placing an ear against his cupboard door to listen in. "It's just one of the neighbors off Magnolia Crescent is all, Petunia."

"He doesn't look like one of our neighbors, Vernon," Aunt Petunia said. "He doesn't look… _normal_."

Uncle Vernon grunted, possibly agreeing with her. Harry cracked open his door to look, finding his aunt and uncle peering out the window and across the street. Harry had to wonder vaguely what his aunt meant by not looking "normal". What made anything look "normal" on the streets on Halloween?

"Mummy! Daddy!"

Harry quickly shut the door when he saw Petunia and Vernon turn around sharply at the sound of their son's screaming in the other room.

Dudley came running down the hallway. "Harry broke my costume!" he yelled.

Harry heard his cousin sniffling on the other side of his door, obviously crying over something Harry never did.

"It's just a small tear, Dudley," Harry heard Aunt Petunia say. By the tone of her voice, she seemed distracted. "Nothing Mummy can't fix."

"But _Harry_ _broke_ it, Mum!" Dudley griped.

Harry turned around and made sure to hide the last of his lemon drops before his cousin found a way to take those too. After quickly stuffing them in a sock and throwing that under his bed, Harry expected to find his aunt opening his cupboard door, but it remained closed and Dudley continued whining.

"I want you to punish Harry!" Dudley began sobbing. "He broke my costume!"

"Not now Dudley," Aunt Petunia said. She still sounded worried, but her son didn't seem to notice. "We'll fix it tomorrow. Why don't you go get yourself ready for bed and Mummy will come tuck you in in a little while, hmm?"

Harry half expected Dudley to protest and was surprised to hear his cousin stomping up the stairs, sending dust and spiders falling onto Harry's head. Once Dudley slammed his door shut, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia began whispering to each other again.

"What if he comes up to the house?" Aunt Petunia murmured nervously.

Uncle Vernon grumbled under his breath. "We'll pretend we're asleep," he said, and Harry saw the lights go out from the crack under his door. "Lock the doors and windows and ignore him if he comes knocking."

Aunt Petunia must have agreed with her husband because after that, Harry heard them walking up the stairs and turning off the lights.

Once things upstairs went quiet as everyone went to bed, Harry slowly opened his door, pausing every once and a while when it squeaked. He quietly slipped out into the hall and tip-toed to the front door, keeping an ear open to any sounds from up stairs. Pushing the curtain aside, Harry peeked out the window.

The street was dark. All the trick-o-treaters must have gone home, too. A few streetlights were still lit and between two of them, Harry could see a darkly dressed figure standing on the sidewalk opposite the Dursley's. The glow from the lampposts provided just enough ambient light for Harry to see a hint of the figure's face. It seemed like the man (because Harry was sure it was a man despite what looked like long blonde hair flowing over the figure's shoulders) was looking right at him.

The man smiled.

Harry felt his heart jump in his throat, and in a blink, the man was gone.

* * *

_Author's_ Note:Thanks again for reading! Don't forget to review!


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